Page 5 of Santa's Dark Secret

I watched Mila grow up, returning to her home every year to check in on her, and despite my father’s disapproval, I would always leave a small token behind, wanting her to know that I was there. I needed her to remember me, and fuck, she never failed me. She’s held on to that memory of the little dark-haired boy who appeared in her living room all those years ago, going as far as to wish for my return every year. I never hesitated because I was desperate to be in her space.

She’s a woman now, and I’ve been starving for her. The way her body has changed, how she’s now aware of herself. I’m a fucking animal for Mila Morgan, and I’m not too fucked up to admit that I’ve been checking in on her a little more often than Christmas allows.

It started just here and there. On her twenty-first birthday, or when she moved to a new apartment. I’ve always stayed in the background, never getting to touch her, never getting to taste her.

Am I disgustingly aware that I’ve been stalking this woman? Yes.

Am I aware of how fucking wrong and unhinged it is? Also yes.

Do I give a single fuck? No.

But all that changes this Christmas because Mila didn’t just wish for my return this year. She wished for something I’ve been desperate to give her for years, and there’s nothing that’ll stop me now.

I sit back in my chair, my feet kicked up on the huge mahogany desk in the office that used to be my father’s. There’s three hours before I’m due to set off for the biggest night of the year, and yet I’m holed up in my office, rock-fucking-hard, and clutching the printout of Mila’s wishes.

I can’t help but gaze over it one more time, each of her filthy requests written out with checkboxes that desperately need to be ticked off.

I wish to be dicked down so hard that my knees will shake for weeks after.

I wish to be thrown around, flipped over like a pancake and railed within an inch of my life.

I wish to be dragged down my bed only to feel a warm mouth close over my clit and scream as he works me with his skilled tongue.

I wish to make him come apart in my mouth.

I wish to come alive, to feel things I’ve never felt before, and to be screwed so good that nothing will ever compare.

Dicked down so hard that her knees shake? Fuck yes. I am more than happy to do that for her. But what I really can’t wait for is to watch as her lips close around my cock, the way her tongue would work up and down my length, how tears would form in her pretty eyes as she forces herself past her gag-reflex to give it to me just right. But fuck, the way I’m going to fall apart in her mouth.

It’s as though she’s wanted this as much as I have. But that would be selfish, right? I don’t just want this for me, I want this for her. She clearly needs it, and who am I to deny a Christmas wish? I’m Santa Claus for fuck’s sake. It’s literally my job to give her what she wants. And tonight, that’s exactly what I’ll do.

I hope she’s ready for me.

My cock becomes painful, and I can’t help but reach beneath my desk and slide my hand inside my pants, fisting my hard length. My gaze remains locked on the words of Mila’s wishes as I slowly begin working myself, my fist pumping up and down. I picture the way I will finally taste her, how I would spread those creamy thighs and close my mouth over her desperate cunt.

Fuck, the way she will squirm for me. The way she will arch her back off her bed and cry for more. She’s going to be perfect.

My fist tightens, and I work myself faster and harder, my thumb roaming over my tip and making my hips jolt with desperation.

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